


mythweaver

by ninjamcgarrett, somehowunbroken



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Greece, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Sappho - Freeform, fix-it for kerf's trade to the leafs (sort of), hockey boys quoting poetry at each other, the alternate universe where no one ever gets traded and everything is fine, those sweet gay gay feelings, yeah it's super cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 13:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninjamcgarrett/pseuds/ninjamcgarrett, https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: It starts with a barely murmured word and a wall. Well, more accurately it's the side of the team bus, but Kerf's not being picky. Really, it was all Cale's fault. Either way, walking into the side of the bus should not be his fault, thank you very much, Josty.





	mythweaver

**Author's Note:**

> The creators would like to thank the [Sappho bot](https://twitter.com/sapphobot) on Twitter for inspiring this fic and the mental image of Kerf and Cale quoting Sappho to each other.
> 
> If you found this by googling yourself or someone you know, now is the time to hit the back button. This is a work of fiction and not intended to imply anything about real persons.

It starts with a barely murmured word and a wall. Well, more accurately it's the side of the team bus, but Kerf's not being picky. Really, it was all Cale's fault. Either way, walking into the side of the bus should not be his fault, thank you very much, Josty.

He's walking with Josty and JT, recounting EJ's late-night decision to order more sex toys of questionable shape. Why EJ chose to live-text his decisions and photos of said toys to Kerf, he'll never understand.

"So there I am, staring at what I swear to god is a horse peen on my phone at one in the morning," Kerf laughs, tea warm in his hand. "All I could think was 'dude, that's too big.' Apparently, nothing is too big for EJ. At least, that's what he says and he also says to ask Sammy for confirmation, which, no."

Josty is the color of beets as he's leaning into JT's shoulder, both of them cracking up. Josty's nose is scrunched up the way it does when he's fighting not to snort while laughing. JT's face nearly matches his hair in color, and his eyes are squeezed closed, the crinkles at the corners vivid in the morning sun.

He hears Cale, the new kid, quiet and so bright-eyed, huff out a soft laugh next to him as he walks by.

"Mythweaver," Cale murmurs as he passes Kerf and steps on the bus.

_Wham._

Josty laughs even harder as JT gently peels Kerf away from the side of the bus. Mercifully, the tea hadn’t spilled all over his suit. "You okay there, Kerf?" he asks, still laughing, full lips stretched wide.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm—fine," Kerf manages, massaging his nose.

He squints up in the direction of where Cale is on the bus and notices through the windows that the tips of Cale's ears are pink. Interesting.

He gets the reference—or, well, he thinks he does. He'd taken queer lit in college, and he'd loved Sappho, half because like knows like and he knows those gay, gay feelings, and half because he loves the mystery of the fragments. Puzzles are great, and word puzzles are even better. 

Cale knowing Sappho, though. That's unexpected, and it's something that Kerf could brush off, except it's not like people just go around whispering "mythweaver" at each other. It's not a common word. Cale has to know. Right?

Well. There sure are ways to confirm that.

Kerf doesn't get a chance to ask him until that night, after the game, at the team dinner. Everyone collapses into booths at the restaurant, too tired to sit with their normal dinner partners. Kerf spies a just-plausible opening next to the rookie and drops into it before someone (EJ) can snag it (presumably to scar the poor new kid, but nobody else needs to see those sex toys).

"H-hi," Cale stammers around a sip of water, clearly not expecting his new seatmate.

"Hey," Kerf smiles back at him. Cale's eyes are really—luminous, he realizes, this close. It's a bit distracting. Before he can lose his nerve though, he opens his mouth. "Good game out there."

And wow, Kerfoot, way to charm the new guy with smooth talking there.

Cale flushes a gorgeous pink and smiles, something warm and far too bright for Kerf's heart to handle. "Thanks. It's a lot of fun out there. I'm enjoying learning from all of you."

One corner of Kerf's mouth crooks up into a smile. "No time like the present. You like learning, eh? Must still be in that mode from college, right?"

He mentally chides himself. Seriously? Could he be any lamer with his questions? Get it together, Alexander.

Cale relaxes into the booth, though, their bodies nearly touching. "Yeah! It was a bit weird to just bail on my classes, but I think the alternative has been worth it. I kinda miss the lectures, though; don't tell the guys."

Kerf smiles. "You're talking to the only college grad on the team, so I think your secret is safe with me. What was your favorite class?"

This makes Cale nearly glow in the dim lighting. Lord. Kerf has to down half his water to not break a sweat at the sight. He has a fleeting thought that Cale's blush and his smile and, well, everything might just be lethal for a normal heart rate.

"Don't laugh but, um, my gender studies class?"

Kerf has to bite his lip to keep from smiling, but he manages. "No, that's cool," he says. "I get chirped all the time for being a math nerd because I was an econ major, but my favorite was definitely my queer lit class."

Cale's blush somehow gets deeper. "Oh? Queer lit?" 

"Yeah," Kerf says, trying for casual. "I really liked the poetry unit. I still remember some of it, if you want to hear it?" Cale nods and doesn't say anything, and Kerf leans in a little. "Some men say an army of ships is the most beautiful thing on the black earth, but I say it is what you love," he quotes. He leans back and smiles widely. "Nice, right?"

"Uh," Cale says, eyes a little wide and unfocused.

Kerf clocks the way Cale's hands trace the wood grain on the table, those wide eyes still rooted on his own. Well, if he's going to drown in gay, gay feelings for a soft boy in the most Sapphic fashion possible, at least he's not alone?

"I always liked that one," Cale manages after a moment, eyes snapping back into focus, something searing in his gaze. "Although, my favorite was always this." He clears his throat and his eyes flicker closed just for a moment before he opens them and pins Kerf with a look that could melt all of the glaciers. "If only I, O gold-crowned Aphrodite, could win this lot." 

Kerf feels the air leave his lungs as if EJ just sat on him in full gear. He draws his tongue along his lower lip, trying to wrangle his thoughts into some semblance of coherency. Mostly it's just _holy shit,_ and _his mouth on mine_ , and _need_. But still, he has to try.

"I—I loved her imagery of Aphrodite. And all the goddesses. There's so much to imagine in the missing gaps from the fragments." That— wasn't totally incoherent. _Well done, Alexander,_ he thinks.

Cale's ridiculous lips (that Kerf is trying very hard not to imagine bruising his own in a kiss) spread wide in a smile. "Right? I had to Google so many of the places and people she named, but it was so worth it." He bites his lip and looks down, suddenly embarrassed. Kerf is torn between wanting to see more of that look and telling him he has nothing to be embarrassed for. "I really want to do a Greece trip in a season or so, during the offseason. I want to see all the places she wrote about and read her poetry and all the other classics from ancient Greece while I'm there."

And that, that right there is where Kerf falls head over skates for this soft, earnest, gorgeous boy.

Cale looks up at him through his lashes, and if Kerf wasn't gone before, he sure is now. "It's dumb, right?"

"No," Kerf says hastily. "No, that sounds perfect. Great. Um, like a really good trip."

It makes Cale laugh at him, which isn't ideal, but it's better than him being embarrassed. "Well, maybe I'll do it, then," he says. "Hopefully we'll have a short offseason, and I can spend part of it travelling Europe. Maybe with some… friends." His gaze lingers on Kerf's mouth for a moment before he blushes again and looks up. "We'll see, I guess." 

"Yeah," Kerf says faintly. "I guess we will."

Cale laughs again, softer this time, and elbows Kerf gently. "So much for mythweaver, eh?"

Kerf knows he's blushing, and here's the thing—he can't bring himself to care. Cale is now pressed along his side, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. The heat is almost enough to be distracting, but right now it's just a pleasant buzz beneath his skin, like laying in the sun on the beach on a warm afternoon. Kerf realizes Cale has shifted his weight so that they're pressed together like this and Kerf can't help himself, he leans into it just a little bit more than he should.

They spend dinner talking excitedly, comparing notes on reading material between Kerf's old queer lit course and Cale's gender studies course. They definitely get a few raised eyebrows when they both start talking very, very quickly in a high pitch about Judith Butler's essays. And EJ absolutely gives them an eyebrow waggle when Freud's ridiculous obsession with his mother comes up.

"Did you have the brain explosion moment," Cale asks, "when your prof explained for the first time that gender and sex aren't linked?"

"Oh, _absolutely_ ," Kerf nods, spearing one of the potatoes off Cale's plate. "I think I spent the rest of the day in a fog, just trying to adjust to the world tipped upside down."

Cale retaliates by stealing two olives from Kerf's salad. "I missed the step between the bench and the ice and just face-planted on the ice. All I could do was hyperventilate at our goalie about it. He was a philosophy major, so he just offered me a protein bar and said 'yeah, welcome to the club, we have shirts about burning the patriarchy.'" 

Kerf nearly snorts his tea out of his nose. "Oh god, that is amazing. Given how absolutely not straight this team is, we should _definitely_ get shirts like that."

He pauses, realizing that they've moved from talking about the past to the present. Cale's not blind and Kerf knows he's seen the guys off the ice and knows about the various pairs on the team. But there's a difference between knowing and talking about it. Still, he's a little nervous for Cale's response.

Cale's skin gives him away, making his eyes stand out. "Yeah, it's kind of great, honestly? I feel like I fit in."

Something in Kerf's chest loosens and he smiles, easy and open. "Same. Even when EJ bombs the locker room with rainbow confetti in the shape of unicorns, I feel like I fit in."

Cale laughs, the sound bright and so, so charming. His eyes slide closed and he's holding his sides as he sinks down in the booth to sag against Kerf. "Oh my god," he chokes out, "of _course_ Horse Girl EJ would use unicorn glitter."

Kerf is laughing, his cheek resting on Cale's tousled hair. "Yeah, don't get him started on unicorns, especially if he's doped up after an injury. He waxes poetic about the 'most majestic creature on this planet.'"

"I thought that's what he called Sammy's dick," Cale murmurs just for him, still laughing.

Kerf collapses into him, hiccuping from laughter.

It's then Kerf realizes that most of the team have cleared out for the night, gone back to their rooms for late night shows and sleep. The only ones left are JT and Josty, who are definitely paying more attention to each other than anyone or anything else, and EJ, who's _definitely_ paying more attention to him and Cale than Kerf is strictly comfortable with. 

"Hey," he says, glancing around. He doesn't really want to bring the conversation to an end, but it's later than he thought, when he checks his watch. "Looks like it's time to head back."

Cale sighs, then flushes like he hadn't meant to. "Oh."

He sounds disappointed, which is probably why Kerf lets the first thought in his head tumble out of his mouth. "Do you want to, uh, keep talking? Upstairs?" 

Cale blinks, eyes wide. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Kerf agrees, maybe too quickly. "I haven't even told you about my professor's rant about white dudes and bell hooks yet."

Cale's eyes light up. "Oh, this I have to hear," he says, standing and holding his hand out. He looks kind of like he wants to pull it back once he realises what he's doing, but Kerf takes it before he has the chance to.

"You definitely do," he says, smiling. He makes himself let go of Cale's hand (EJ's still watching, and there's only so much ammo Kerf is going to give him in one night) and steps away. "Do we both have roommates, or can we go somewhere without a teammate there to make fun of us?"

Cale checks his phone and taps out a message. He grins, mischievous and a little triumphant, when EJ leaps out of his chair a moment later and bolts for the elevator. Kerf cocks an eyebrow at him and Cale just shrugs, looking far too innocent. "Sammy just sent him an, erm, very important text? About spending some time reviewing tape in EJ's room? So my room is free for the night." 

"You are an evil genius and I love it," Kerf whispers, sharing Cale's gleeful expression.

Cale bumps shoulders with him as they wait for the elevator. "I just know how to keep EJ happy and out of our hair is all."

"Like I said," Kerf states as they get into the elevator, "evil genius. It's not easy to manage EJ."

Cale leans into his side as they ride up and Kerf is suddenly hyper aware of his hands. He shoves them into his pockets for lack of anything better to do—like running them through Cale's hair, his brain helpfully supplies.

They reach Cale's room without Kerf losing his control and pulling Cale against him. Barely. Something about continuing their conversation from downstairs had given Kerf's traitorous brain a thousand ideas of ways to "discuss" queer relationships—namely, with Cale's lips on his own.

Once inside, Cale sets about making cups of tea for them from the in-room tray. Kerf feels his heart do a weird flip-and-melt combo as he watches Cale set a green tea bag into a cup before pouring steaming water over it. The rookie already knows his preferred tea. Kerf is in way over his head.

"I don't remember how long to leave the bag in for," Cale says, laughing as he brings the cup over. "I know you can't leave it too long or it gets gross, but you're gonna have to coach me here."

"It's good to be coachable," Kerf says, feeling brave enough to let his fingers wrap around Cale's on the cup before taking it from him. "Two minutes for green tea, usually. If it's really crappy quality, two and a half. After that it starts getting weird."

"I'll remember that," Cale says, and it sounds like a promise.

Kerf takes a hasty sip of his too-hot tea to prevent him from saying anything too telling. It works; he sucks in a breath when what's mostly just hot water hits the roof of his mouth.

Cale laughs. "Don't hurt yourself," he chides. "You were going to… tell me more about your professor."

"Right," Kerf says. "My professor."

"And bell hooks," Cale prompts when Kerf doesn't say anything else.

The curve of his smile is pretty much all Kerf can focus on. "Yeah," he says. "It's a good story."

Cale moves closer. "Yeah? Tell me all about it, mythweaver."

Kerf swallows, his throat dry despite the recently drunk hot water. Cale's thigh is pressed against his own, Cale's hands wrapped around a cup of his own, long fingers loose around the warm ceramic. Kerf feels a flash down his spine at the errant thought of those fingers… elsewhere. 

His brain short-circuits at that, going very unhelpfully blank. Just, nothing. Like the gaps in Sappho's poetry, so much there to ponder on and no clue as to the original content. He hasn't been oblivious to Cale's good looks and sweet charm in the last few weeks, but still. This is a thunderclap of snow cleaving off the mountain. H's drowning in Cale's eyes, the color of avalanche-prone ice, so clear and blue. Kerf feels his mouth falling open at the heated way Cale's eyes trace his face. 

"Sweet mother," Kerf whispers, voice rough, "I cannot work the loom. I am broken with longing for a boy by slender Aphrodite." 

Blue irises are eclipsed by black pupil as Cale draws in a short breath. "Oh."

Kerf opens his mouth and shuts it again, because he's not sure what else he really has to say. He drops his gaze to Cale's mouth again, and it's almost slow motion, the way Cale leans in and kisses him, so soft and sweet.

Cale's so red that the tips of his ears look like they're burning when he pulls back. "My tongue freezes. Fire, delicate fire, in the flesh," he says, so quietly that Kerf wouldn't be able to hear it if they weren't still barely a breath apart. "Blind, stunned, the sound of thunder, in my ears." 

"Eros shook my mind like a mountain wind falling on oak trees," Kerf replies, and Cale smiles and leans back in and they're kissing again, Cale putting a hand warm from cupping his mug against Kerf's cheek, and it's—wonderful is kind of a cheesy word, but that's all he's coming up with. 

Kerf leans into the touch, noting the way Cale sucks in a surprised breath through his nose when Kerf's beard scratches rough against his skin. "Sorry," Kerf mumbles against his lips.

"No, I like it," Cale admits, color high on his cheeks.

Kerf traces the blush with the pad of his thumb. "Okay then," he replies, smiling.

He reels Cale back in, daring to lick into his mouth. The rookie goes pliant, tilting his head back and letting him in, a high noise sounding from his throat, far higher than Kerf would have guessed was possible earlier. One of Cale's hands settles on Kerf's hip, fingers holding on tight and pressing into a fading bruise leftover from a few games before. Kerf moans, unable to hold back the noise.

"Oh god," Cale gasps, breaking the kiss.

He plucks Kerf's mug from his lax hand and sets both of them far out of harm's way on the dresser. He's back in a flash and grabbing Kerf's shirt in his hands. He stills his movements though, heated eyes searching Kerf's. "Kerf, I need—can I?"

Kerf dives back in, kissing him hard, bruising Cale's lips like he's wanted to for most of the night (longer, if he's being honest with himself). "Yes, oh god, please," he gasps, realizing that Cale is waiting for verbal confirmation.

Cale peels Kerf's shirt off and then his own before pushing Kerf down on the bed and straddling him. Cale's wide hand, with those deliciously long fingers, cups his face, thumb brushing along his cheek. Kerf leans into the touch, eyes slipping shut at the feel of Cale above him, around him, touching him like this. It's so much and not enough. Kerf's brain is stuck in that loop from earlier of _want_ and _so gorgeous_ and _please oh god please_.

His eyes fly open when he hears Cale gasp in surprise. Oh. "Did I say that out loud?"

Cale's eyes are blown wide, all pupil now. He nods.

"I mean it," Kerf says, holding eye contact. "God, you're gorgeous, and I want this. Keep touching me?"

"Not gonna be a problem," Cale says, his laugh strained as he traces Kerf's jaw. His eyes follow his fingers, and Kerf swallows hard when he glances up. Cale's gaze is intense, and it's full of want and need that Kerf's sure must be reflected on his own face.

"Kiss me," Kerf says. He means for it to be demanding, maybe, but it's breathy and quiet, and Cale's gaze darkens even more as he leans in to do just that. 

Kerf leans up into the touch, turning his head into Cale's palm, humming happily when Cale tentatively licks into his mouth. Cale doesn't hesitate, though, when he grinds down against Kerf. The friction makes Kerf greedy and he arches up, chasing the feeling. He's acutely aware of how tight his jeans are becoming, but he is so past caring. The thought of pulling away long enough to shuck off his pants is discarded with a hard no from his dick. His pulse demands _Cale_ and _now_ and doesn't specify with or without clothes.

Kerf gets enough of a grip on his sanity (or what's left of it) to get one hand on Cale's ass. Cale's jeans do nothing to disguise the rounded, firm muscle there and Kerf feels half out of his mind at the thought of eating Cale out. Next time. If there's a next time. God, he hopes so.

Cale's ass clenches and Kerf blacks out for a second on the mental image of Cale doing that around his fingers. Or his dick.

_Get it together, Kerfoot,_ he chides.

His free hand brushes across Cale's chest on the way to join its mate around Cale's ass. The noise Cale makes though when he brushes a pebbled nipple makes Kerf pause. _Interesting_. Kerf swipes his thumb over the nipple once more and grins when Cale makes the noise again. It's deep in his throat but high, like a whine, begging and pleading.

Kerf swirls his thumb around the sensitized skin, drawing a slow circle. Cale lets out that same breathy whine, eyes shut tight. Kerf has to take a second to just look at Cale above him, the flush extending down his chest, coloring the alabaster skin to something like a fine wine. Kerf wants to trace the blood flow with his tongue. So he does. 

Cale shudders under his tongue and warm breath, throat working hard as he moans. Kerf brushes his lips across Cale's other nipple and huffs out a warm breath across the surface. The shiver starts at Cale's shoulders and travels all the way to his knees, still bracketing Kerf's legs. Kerf gently pulls Cale's nipple between his teeth and laves his tongue over it.

At that angle, he can just manage to look up. Cale looks like something out of a Sappho poem, his head thrown back and eyes shut in ecstasy. His adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows before his lips fall open.

"Ale _xander,"_ Cale gasps, breath hitching on the latter half. The noise goes straight to Kerf's dick, making it throb hard against his constricting jeans. 

"Yeah," he says, leaning back and looking up. "Can we—pants? I really want to get your pants off." It's now or never, Kerf thinks. Lose the pants now or deal with it after.

"Shit, yes, absolutely," Cale says. He grinds down a little, filthy and sweet, and then kneels up. "You too? I want—god, anything you'll give me."

It makes Kerf gasp, because he can tell how honest it is, and he's feeling the exact same way. He surges up to kiss Cale again, then forces himself to pull away. Now or never. Pants. 

He shimmies out of his pants, then looks up. Cale is kneeling on the edge of the bed, pants unzipped but not off yet, and he's just… staring.

"What?" Kerf asks, a little self-conscious.

"You're beautiful," Cale blurts out. "Sorry, I just—uh. Wow."

Kerf can feel the heat rising on his cheeks. "Look who's talking."

Cale laughs and shakes his head. "Wow," he repeats, but then he stands up and pushes his pants down, climbing back onto the bed in his boxers and nothing else.

Kerf loses himself in the cut of Cale's hips, the shimmer of reddish-bronze hair that disappears below the waistband of his boxers. Cale's stomach is still smooth, not rippled and ESPN body mag-defined like some of the older guys on the team. But the build of muscle at Cale's hips? The Adonis belt that cleaves down into the dark material of his boxers? If Kerf hadn't been literally waxing poetic before, he might have started over that. 

As it is, he reaches out to trace the line of muscle before sliding around to grip Cale's ass again with both hands this time. Cale lands on top of him when he tugs and thrusts down against him. Kerf gasps, his dick so much more sensitive without two pairs of jeans between them. Kerf sucks at Cale's nipple once more before trailing kisses up Cale's chest and to his shoulder. He scrapes his teeth along the swell of muscle and nips at the warm skin there when Cale shifts back into his hands and then forward into his mouth.

Kerf's fingers are digging into the cleft of Cale's ass, the fabric bunching in his hands. It's then he feels Cale slide a hand around one of his thighs and hike one of Kerf's legs up and around his waist, pulling their dicks flush. Kerf can't help himself as he ruts up and sinks his teeth into the meat of Cale's shoulder at the same time. 

"Fuck, Cale," he manages once he's pulled back enough to remember how oxygen works. "Can we—can we get off just like this?" 

"Yes," Cale says, rushed. "That's—I'm glad you're okay with that, because I don't know if I'm gonna last much longer." 

"Fuck, that's hot," Kerf says, grinding up against him. "C'mon, grind down, babe." It slips out of his mouth without any input from his brain, but it makes Cale groan and circle his hips, and he does it again when Kerf squeezes at his ass.

"I'm close," Cale gasps out. "I—kiss me, please, please."

That is absolutely something Kerf can do. He runs one hand up Cale's back and tangles it in the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him down so he can kiss him deep and dirty. Cale whines against his mouth, and his hips start moving faster.

Kerf clings to Cale's hair and his ass, lifelines amid the storm thundering in his ears and thrumming through his body. He slides his tongue into Cale's mouth, licking in dirty and needy, at the same time as he brushes a finger across Cale's rim over the material of his boxers.

Cale comes with a shout, hips stuttering down with a force that would be impressive if Kerf weren't seconds from coming himself. Kerf kisses him through it, gentling his touches and holding him close. He knows he's close but wants to wait until he knows Cale's come down a bit to be aware of his surroundings—or the century, really he isn't picky.

Cale is breathing hard into the join of his neck, mouth wet and panting, raising goosebumps along Kerf's arms. He grunts, eyes hazy, as he unglues one hand from Kerf's hips. He slides it across Kerf's lower abs, making him tremble at the surprisingly feather-light touch. And then he cups Kerf hard through the damp fabric of his boxers.

Kerf bucks up into Cale's hand over and over, the tight feeling of his fingers pulling Kerf apart and putting him back together again. The storm that had been whipping through his body explodes in a collision of light and sound. Images of Cale looking wrecked and so happy burn themselves into the back of Kerf's eyes, and the sound of saying Cale's name over and over, like a poem of its own, settles in his ears amid the quieting of the orgasm.

"Oh," Cale says, something like awe in his voice as he looks down at Alexander. "That was really… wow."

Kerf is still breathing raggedly, pulling himself back together after what is frankly too good an orgasm for the fact that he came in his boxers. He smiles at Cale, though, reaching up to run still-shaking fingers through his hair. "Wow," he agrees. "O beautiful, O graceful one." 

Cale smiles and turns to kiss Kerf's palm. "I don't think that was anything like graceful."

"Worth it," Kerf decides. "Kiss me again?"

"Gladly," Cale says, leaning down to press their lips together again. It's sweet and slow this time, instead of the stoked fire that flared brighter and brighter earlier. This one is both of them leaning in, noses brushing and their lips turned up in twin smiles. Kerf has to break off to laugh softly.

"What's so funny?" Cale asks, propping himself up on one elbow so he can smile down at Kerf.

"That I'm really, _really_ glad EJ is preoccupied right now and that Sammy is nowhere near this room. We'd never hear the end of it from either of them."

Cale drops his forehead to Kerf's shoulder, giggling. The vibration rumbles into Kerf's chest and he feels warm all over, not just from Cale's long frame draped over his own.

Cale looks up at him after a moment and smiles, something a little like teasing sparkling in his eyes. "I'm just glad neither of us quoted the lament for loss of virginity. That would have been the worst afterglow ever."

Kerf is startled into a shout of a laugh, and his nose scrunches up as he continues to howl. The laughter feels good, settling behind his ribs all loose and light. When he's finally calmed down, Kerf kisses the corner of Cale's upturned mouth.

"For we in our youth did these things," Cale says, smiling and kissing him back. "And speaking of doing things, uh. Would you be interested in doing… other things?" 

Kerf raises an eyebrow. "That's a pretty broad offer there, Cale."

Cale laughs. "Like, go out with me?" he asks hopefully. "And let's have sex again, that too, that was good."

"Yeah," Kerf says. He's smiling so much his face kind of hurts, but he doesn't care at all. "Let's do all of that. All of the other things, too. I want a list."

"Of course you want a list," Cale says, rolling his eyes a little but leaning in to kiss Kerf anyway. "What, you want to check things off as we do them?"

"Maybe I just want to know what to look forward to," Kerf counters, and then he's too busy kissing the smile on Cale's face to do anything else.

_Two Months Later, Naxos Island, Greece_

The sun is just starting to lighten the sky in the east. Kerf is leaning on the balcony with a hot cup of tea, watching the way the steam curls up into the light that's changing slowly from black to predawn grey. He hears Cale pad out onto the balcony and smiles when Cale wraps him up from behind in a hug.

"Morning," Cale rumbles, hair mushed to one side and standing up. "Lady Dawn," he quotes, smiling as the first sounds of birds reach their ears. 

Kerf angles his head back enough to press a kiss to Cale's stubbled jaw. "Hi, babe," he murmurs.

They're quiet as they watch the sun climb into the sky. It's the sixth day of their trip; they had started in Lesbos, the home of Sappho, and worked their way south through the islands. Upon arriving on Naxos the day before, with its sandy beaches, sapphire blue water, and postcard-perfect white houses, Cale had declared he was never leaving. Kerf had been inclined to agree with him.

"How do you feel about spending some time in the water today? I hear swimming with the dolphins here is pretty amazing," Kerf asks after Cale has drunk most of the tea from Kerf’s cup and the sun has filled the sky with a soft peach pink color. 

Cale hums, peppering kisses along Kerf's sun-bronzed shoulder. "I like the idea. But I think there's something else we should do first."

"Oh? Is it a thing from the list?"

"More like several things," Cale laughs as Kerf turns in his arms and kisses him.

The teacup is forgotten on the balcony as they maneuver back inside and toward the bed.


End file.
